Marmalade
by marble eyes
Summary: Post 2x03. Three years have passed and John is trying to move on from the memories of that day by marrying Mary. But it seems all Sherlock's friends and family have other ideas. Slash.


**Hello and thank you for reading this fic. I've twiddled with the character of Mary. From what I've read about her she was a quiet and kind woman who gave John stability, whilst Sherlock gave him excitement. I've sort of taken that and in a way made her more rounded and slightly flawed. Asking the question would that stability have made John happy if Sherlock was no longer around to equal it out with excitement and danger? I think in some ways John and Mary led separate but happy lives whenever Sherlock called. Any way enjoy and please review, I'd love to know what you think. **

It was John Watson's wedding day. A day he hadn't really allowed himself to get that excited about. Yes he loved Mary, but… but she wasn't Sherlock Holmes. He smiled looking into the mirror and straightened his tie. Mary Morstan was beautiful in her own way, with her blonde hair and delicate porcelain skin. Any man would be lucky to have her, so why didn't John feel lucky?

When the two had met John had been at rock bottom. It was two years after Sherlock's death and he had been drinking in a bar with his sister Harry. Mary had noticed him from across the room; she was a primary school teacher on a staff night out. They had spent the night talking and John found that for the first time in years he didn't feel like there was a gaping wound inside of him. He had almost felt whole again.

The romance had developed quickly and they had gotten engaged a few months later. John had found himself content, life had reached a mediocre point in which he knew exactly what would happen every day and he had resided himself to it. In the morning they would share breakfast: tea and toast (with marmalade, never jam). And he would come home to her in the evenings, his dinner would always be ready (usually a homely English dish) and they would spend the evening watching television. They would then be in bed by half past ten and then the whole process would begin again. John Watson finally had routine and stability, and this made him happy. Or did it?

No-one but Lestrade had said a word when his limp returned. Mrs Hudson had simply shaken her head sadly in an almost knowing way. He wondered if they knew. Knew that he was still desperately in love with Sherlock Holmes. He shook his head trying to get rid of any thoughts and images of his best friend. Why did his thoughts still linger on a dead man he could not have? It was his wedding day for heavens sake!

John tried to ignore the fact he was bored. It wasn't Mary he was bored with, but life itself. He was beginning to understand how Sherlock felt when he shot bullets through the wall. John Watson was bored. Any attempts to inject some excitement into his and Mary's life were met with stiff lipped adversary. He remembered Mary's expression a few months prior when he'd place a jar of jam on the table at breakfast time; she had stared at the alien object with a look of contempt before politely excusing herself. Mary liked life to be ordinary and structured, where as John…well he liked a variety of other things on his toast other than marmalade. He'd once brought home a Chinese take away as a surprise treat for her, in response she had thrown down her cooking utensils and locked herself in the room for the rest of the night crying.

He sighed, wondering if he was making a mistake. A life married to Mary would be fine if he still had Sherlock to run off and have adventures with. He was quite sure that he would have loved the life of normality he had with Mary if Sherlock was still alive. He straightened the tie again, knowing it would not be good enough for her.

In an ironic cruel twist of fate they were getting married in the same church that had hosted Sherlock Holmes' funeral. Mary had insisted in getting married in the same church that her parents had. No matter how many times John had objected, his arguments were ignored and unheard.

John suddenly felt a pang on guilt at how cruelly he was thinking about Mary. She was the most thoughtful person he had ever met. She gave up many hours of her time working for charities and all the children in her class loved her. She had taken on John when he had been nothing but a shell and put most of the pieces of his heart back together. That's why he was marrying her, she made him feel safe. When he was sleeping next to her the nightmares of a lone dark figure jumping off the side of a building did not haunt him as much.

'Are you ready John?'

John turned around, happy to have a distraction from his dou- thoughts. He smiled at the figure of Greg Lestrade; his best man. The man who had sat with him for many nights just drinking beer and not saying a word. In the last three years he had been a true friend. They usually spent each Saturday evening down the pub together reminiscing about Sherlock's antics. Greg and Mrs Hudson were two of the few people who did not believe Sherlock was a fraud. Greg had spent years building up a case file that proved Sherlock was not connected to any of the five hundred crimes he'd helped to solve. Sherlock's name had been completely been cleared, but the British public did not wish to know. They found it easier to believe the writings of Kitty Reilley than the truth. John had to repress a smirk, remembering how he'd had to bail and collect Mrs Hudson from the police station after the older woman had broken into the reporters flat and placed a number of Sherlock's more disgusting experiments inside. Her defence claimed that the older woman had been suffering from a breakdown caused by the death of someone she considered her son; John simply knew it was a case of sweet revenge.

'Yes I'm ready.' Responded John.

Lestrade replied with a tight lip smile. 'You know it's not too late.'

John raised an eyebrow 'what do you mean?'

'To change your mind, be a runaway groom.' He said quickly.

'Why would you think I want to do that?'

Lestrade looked torn, like there was an internal struggle going on within his head. 'You don't go years working with someone like Sherlock without picking up some of his tricks. And I've noticed that for the last twenty minutes you've paced in front of that mirror no less than ten times. The biggest give away is that you look like the unhappiest man on earth.'

John opened and then closed his mouth.

'I know you don't want to hear this and I know what a mess you were before Mary came along. But as your best man I think it's my duty to tell you that you're making a mistake.'

John sighed, ignoring the part of himself that was agreeing with every word Greg said. 'Well you're wrong.' He simply stated, before again tugging his tie straight.

'No, no I'm not John. You and I both know it should be Sherlock you're marrying today.'

John bit back a bitter laugh. 'Sherlock never would have married me; he would have found the whole ceremony too dull. He also would have insulted most of the wedding guests before the vicar even opened his mouth.'

Lestrade suddenly looked victorious. 'So you finally admit it, there was something there between the two of you?'

'What ever gave you that idea? If you hadn't realised, I'm not gay.'

'No you're not, but you seemed to have put a lot of thought into what your wedding to Sherlock Holmes would have been like.'

John felt like hitting his head against a wall. 'If you hadn't noticed Sherlock Holmes is dead.' He said bitterly 'So it doesn't matter what my feelings are or were for the man, he's dead. I've long given up on the illusion he's going to just one day turn up. I now have Mary, she's beautiful and kind. It may not be Romeo and Juliet, but I do love her.'

Lestrade chewed on his lip thoughtfully. 'Please don't hit me for what I'm about to say, but don't you think Mary's slightly dull? Every time I come round for a cup of tea your house is spotless. The cup she gives me the tea in looks as if it has been bleached, she's even colour coded her coasters! What type of woman colour coordinates her coasters? Your music and films are in alphabetical order and you eat at precisely six thirty every night. John if I was you I would have probably shot myself by now.'

'Well thank you for your words of support.' Said John duly, 'I believe the taxi's outside now. Do make sure your tie is straight, Mary hates anything untidy.' He shot Lestrade a meaningful look before marching out the room, like a soldier determined to complete his mission.

The journey to the church was one taken in silence. Lestrade was chewing his lip his lip, as if trying to keep his many thoughts from being voiced out loud. As they pulled into the car park John pointedly ignored looking over at Sherlock's grave. He walked straight into the church, ignoring the many greetings from friends and family. He sat resolutely in the pew at the front and grunted at the vicar in greeting. A few moments later Lestrade joined him, still looking pensive.

'You look sad.'

John looked up startled and noticed Molly peering down at him. He hadn't seen the woman properly for nearly three years; every time he'd tried to talk to her after Sherlock's death she'd make herself scarce and never uttered more than a few words to him.

'I'm fine,' he said kindly to her, 'just nerves.'

'You look like a man who's been sentenced to death. You look how Sher-' she forcibly stopped herself. 'Any way, good luck today.'

'He'll need it' muttered Lestrade.

'Greg!' said John in a warning tone. 'Ignore him Molly. Thank you for coming.'

'That might be a bit hard.' She smiled softly 'I'm here as Greg's date.'

John stared at her in shock and his eyes were suddenly drawn to her helmet shaped wedding hat. A brief memory of a blurred face on a bike sprang to the forefront of his memory. He quickly shoved it aside. 'Well about time. Greg's been trying to work up the courage to ask you for years.'

She gave him a bright smile, and turned to walk away. She suddenly stopped, as if some force was making her turn around. When she looked at John again, her face was troubled. 'All he wanted was for you to be happy and alive. Marmalade's always a safe bet every time.' She purposely walked away without another word.

John stood up to follow her, but Lestrade grabbed his sleeve. 'They've just given me the signal that your bride's here.'

John stood up ready, never feeling so confused in his entire life. The wedding march had started and all he could think was it all felt like some warped nightmare. What had Molly meant by her marmalade comment? He hadn't told anyone that breakfast time with Mary bothered him so much. He turned to look at his bride to be, she had never looked so beautiful. A beautiful pure white dress and her hair curled, not a hair was out of place. He tried to smile but his instincts were telling him to run. And then she was next to him beaming. The vicar was now talking about love and how marriage was a gift.

'Is there anyone here present who knows why these two should not be joined in marriage?'

'I do!'

A gasp echoed around the church and everyone turned to watch Mrs Hudson stand with a determined look on her face.

'I agree.' And suddenly Molly was standing too.

'Sod this.' Muttered Lestrade next to John, 'I object to this marriage too!'

Loud chatter was now echoing around the church. The vicar looked astounded and unable to process that three people had interrupted him in such a way.

'On what grounds do you object?' asked the vicar, a pleading note in his voice. It sounded as if he wished the whole wedding was a bad dream that he would wake up from at any minute.

Mycroft Holmes (who John had not invited) was suddenly standing too. 'Well this wedding is all one big waste of time any way, as I will never allow this marriage to be legally binding.'

John felt like ramming in his head into the nearest hall. 'Will you all just shut up and let me get married!'

Warm brown eyes were looking straight at him. 'John?' she whispered. 'Do you actually want to get married?'

He could tell she was trying hard to hide the anger that her big day planned with such precision had been ruined in seconds by Sherlock Holmes' dysfunctional friends and family. 'I-' he looked into her warm eyes, wishing they were cold and grey. 'No I don't want to marry you. I love you Mary, but I'm not in love with you. You're a beautiful, kind and lovely person who deserves to marry some that does. And I don't like marmalade.' Without another word he walked straight down the aisle and didn't look back. In the back of his mind he wondered if he'd imagined the clapping that followed him.

He found himself in front of Sherlock's grave. He balled his hand into a fist and thumped the stone hard. 'Ow!' he sprang back holding his hand and cursing under his breath. He didn't know what he was trying to achieve, but it actually felt good to let out some anger. 'Well Sherlock that's the tenth relationship you've wrecked. I mean your skills were lost as a consulting detective, you should have been a marriage wrecker instead.'

John began to suck his knuckles, still glaring at the headstone in front of him. 'You were selfish so often Sherlock, but the most selfish thing you ever did was dying. Didn't you realise that it would burn my heart out of me?' He paused sensing a figure behind him. 'Why don't you just piss of Greg?'

He turned round and was not prepared for the sight that met him: Sherlock Holmes. Before he could say anything John had clenched his fist again and punched him in the nose.

'Ow, ow, ow!' John sprang back again. He wished he'd remembered he'd injured that hand before hitting Sherlock.

'I deserved that.'

'You know what you deserve?' John sprang forward and grabbed Sherlock's coat lapels in fury. He slammed his mouth onto his former dead friend's in fury. There teeth clashed together and John could taste blood, but he continued to kiss the man like he would disappear any second.

He pulled himself from Sherlock, appeased at the expression of shock etched upon his face. 'I'm never talking to you again.' He pulled him in for another searing kiss. 'I hate you.' Sherlock was slowly beginning to get the hang of kissing and put his lips on John before he could say any more. He grabbed John's arm and pulled him to hide behind a tree as the sound of the wedding guests leaving the church began.

'I did it to protect you.'

'Protect me?' John's anger was rising again; he put his hands into Sherlock's hair and yanked his face down to kiss him. 'Next time, don't bother.'

'They were going to kill you, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade if I didn't.'

John rested his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder, now aware of the growing pain in his hand. 'Three years.'

'The time it took for Mycroft to track down and dispose of the assassins and for Lestrade to clear my name.'

'You were going to let me get married?'

Sherlock looked at the ground guilty. 'Well Mycroft never would have let it be legally binding'

John had heard enough, pain and anger were clouding his mind. He just didn't care any more. He pushed Sherlock into the tree and kissed him passionately. Enjoying the warmth of being pressed so closed to Sherlock and how soft his lips felt against his. Everything seemed to go away; the fact he'd been a run away groom and that Sherlock had been dead for three years. All he could think was how right this moment felt. He put his hands into Sherlock's hair just as he slipped his own arms around John pulling so tightly to him, that he found it hard to breath.

A flash of a camera caused them both to spring apart; John was blushing, realising how inappropriate and disrespectful it was to be found kissing a man minutes after jilting a woman at the altar.

'So you're not gay and in love with Sherlock then?' asked Lestrade as he lowered his camera. 'Molly said I'd probably find you both out here. I decided to bring a camera just in case. Thank you both for not disappointing me.'

John opened and closed his mouth, unable to speak.

'Well I'm sorry to say you'll have to come down the station with me and answer a few questions.'

Sherlock shot him a knowing smirk. 'I'm legally dead Lestrade. And I have a prior engagement.'

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. Poor Sherlock didn't realise once his little reunion with John was over that he was going to pay for hurting the former soldier. That is if he was still alive after John and Mrs Hudson had finished with him. As Mrs Hudson said 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' He wondered if the reporter had ever realised the shampoo in her bathroom contained a chemical that would slowly and permanently make her bold. 'You've been pretending to be dead for the last three years, how many engagements can a dead man have?'

'I'm taking John for breakfast. I think we'll have everything but toast and marmalade.'


End file.
